


Tales from the Land of Satyrs

by laconicisms



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Dildos, Dubious Consent, Fuck Or Die, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-11-29
Updated: 2010-11-29
Packaged: 2017-10-13 11:18:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,203
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/136779
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/laconicisms/pseuds/laconicisms
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>No one could really have foreseen, and adequately prepared for, an Angel of the Lord bursting into a pagan orgy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tales from the Land of Satyrs

**Author's Note:**

> So, one day I asked [](http://morganoconner.livejournal.com/profile)[**morganoconner**](http://morganoconner.livejournal.com/) to throw some tropes at me. This is the result. (Cas using a dildo is all my fault, though.) Many, many thanks to [](http://kodamasama.livejournal.com/profile)[**kodamasama**](http://kodamasama.livejournal.com/) for the quick beta. :)

It’s awkward at first. Sam doesn’t know where to put his hands, Castiel keeps putting his knee in extremely uncomfortable places – accidentally, Sam knows, but it still _hurts_ \- and Dean's swearing at both of them for getting them into this mess in the first place. Sam tells him to shut it because he will take no blame for this. It's always been Dean's Unholy Task to teach Castiel about such things as knocking on a door or the Dos and Don'ts of angel-god interaction. Admittedly, no one could really have foreseen, and adequately prepared for, an Angel of the Lord bursting into a pagan orgy, but still. Sam tried to fix the situation while Dean just stood around gaping like a goldfish at all the naked flesh on display. That he ended up making things worse wasn't his fault, and asking for help from Gabriel, who was right in the thick of things – very much _in_ , in fact - was logical.

And it worked up to a point because Gabriel did manage to appease Priapus and his priestesses. There is still a catch, though, and...and why is it always _Sam_ who has to take one for the team? _Goddammit._

The only bright side in this situation – aside from not being cursed with impotence, that is, before dying in a truly horrific way, like drowning in a tank full of lube (these gods are all insane - totally, _totally_ crazy) – is that they were given permission to suffer in the privacy of their motel room, Gabriel the only witness to their punishment. The trickster is watching them from an armchair he's snapped into existence and laughing his ass off. He's giving them instructions though, and while Sam wants to ignore them – no need to sound quite that amused - he does listen. He listens and does what Gabriel tells him to because he wants to live, dammit, doesn't want to die because a pagan god got angry at them. (Sam's not entirely sure that Gabriel couldn't undo it; the archangel swears up and down that he can't, though, so Sam holds his tongue and follows each step of the ritual as instructed.)

“Next," he hears Gabriel say, "put your hand on Cas' cock, Sam. Start stroking. Dean, it's time. You need to start fucki-”

“Ow!” Dean hisses, hand moving towards his nose. “Watch it.”

Castiel glares at him over his shoulder. “I don't see how I'm supposed to 'watch it' when your finger stimulates the prostate of my vessel.” He twists his own finger inside Sam, and Sam's whole body spasms because _fuck, so good._

“See,” Castiel says. “It's hard to control your movements.”

No, Gabriel isn't simply amused. His laughter is downright _gleeful_ , and he's howling like a hyena. “Spread them a little more, Sam.”

Sam groans and runs a hand through his hair. His other hand is busy reaching up and jerking Cas off while Dean fucks into the angel from behind.

And kisses his back, mustn't forget that.

Then Sam bites his lip and moans because Cas is inserting a second finger into him, scissoring, stretching him for the goddamn Symbol of Power Cas is supposed to use on him – a fucking fiery red dildo. _Made in China_ , but Priapus claims it looks like his own dick (Gabriel said so, too, and Sam doesn't want to know how he would know. No, actually, Sam knows how he knows and wishes to forget it – forever.)

In any case, the dildo's fiery red and fucking _huge_ , and when Cas removes his hand (four fingers having done as much as they can) and reaches for the fucking Symbol, Sam wants to beg him to stop because it's too big, too goddamn big, and he needs more time to steel himself. But they don't have the time. Cas is sweating already, and he can't keep himself from coming forever, and neither can Dean. So Sam pulls up a leg and watches as Cas lubes up the monstrosity and positions it right at Sam's entrance. He feels it nudge against him, cool and slippery and positively terrifying.

"Try to relax."

"I am relaxed," Sam grits out between clenched teeth, biting back a whimper as Cas pushes a little faster, too fast. "God."

It's probably a sign of...something that neither of the angels reacts to the blasphemy at all when Sam expected Castiel, at least, to frown. Then again, he's heard worse from them (though not while fucking either of them with a sex toy.)

The dildo soldiers on. "I can't," Sam almost weeps, hand finally faltering on Cas' dick. "I--"

"Sssh," he hears and feels something dry and warm settle on his forehead. Gabriel's hand. A thumb starts rubbing small circles.

"Shit. I can't watch this," Dean says. "There's--"

"—no way around it," Gabriel growls and puts his other hand around the one Sam has on Cas, moving both of them up and down. Dean says something else, but Sam is incapable of taking it in, all his attention focused on the sensation of... of that thing penetrating him, steadily, mercilessly. He wants to hate Cas for the way he just pushes on, but _there's no way around it._

"Shh," someone says again. "It's in, all the way."

"God," Sam says, "God." Because he knows what's coming next, and he won't be - _won't be_ \- able to come with that thing moving in and out of him; it's too big, he can't, he can't, but he fucking has to if he wants this nightmare to end.

"Sam," he hears, deep baritone. "Look at me." Sam forces his eyes open – when did he close them? - and looks straight into Cas' eyes. Sweat is running down his temples, and he catches his tongue briefly between bottom lip and teeth. "You can," he says and grips Sam's own cock with his left hand. Then he begins to stroke, moving at the pace Gabriel sets with their own intertwined hands on Cas' cock.

And _then_ he begins to really fuck Sam with the goddamn fucking Symbol, and Sam...Sam looks at Cas. Stares at the blue of his eyes, the fathomless blacks of his irises, and tries to drown himself in the sight of them.

"Please," he hears himself moan over the sound of his heart beating at the speed of a wendigo rushing its next victim. He doesn't know, please, what. Please, stop. Please get it over with. "Please, Cas."

"Yes," Cas says, hand doing funny, glorious things to Sam's cock, and for a moment Sam forgets why they're doing this.

Then he whites out.

*

"Sam? Sammy?" It's Dean. That voice is Dean's. The body sprawled on top of him isn't, though.

"Yes," Sam rasps.

"You okay?"

Sam's eyelids flutter open to see Dean kneel beside him and Cas, Gabriel sitting to his left, one leg on the bed, one on the floor. He tries to frown at Dean, roll his eyes maybe, but he doesn't feel up to it. "Yeah."

"Good. For a moment there you had me worried, princess," Dean says, lips curling into a smirk. "Not only crying your way through sex but fainting to boot."

Sam discovers that he does have enough energy to glare after all.


End file.
